Pride and Papercuts

by Staci Hart

  “Marcus Bennet,” she chided, cheeks pink and brows furrowed in consternation, “stop questioning me and get in that dining room right now.”

  “For the papers.”

  “Yes, for the papers,” she said, tugging me into the dining room.

  But I froze in the threshold, dragging Mom to a stop with me.

  Because sitting at the long table next to Ben was Maisie.

  It was strange, how memory worked, how it could never quite recall the glory of the real thing. How a face I thought I knew better than my own could surprise me so desperately in its beauty. And not the beauty of her form, of her small chin or soft eyes, of her shining hair or the gentle curve of her lips. But in the expression of her love and devotion, so true and real that in a heartbeat, I knew. I knew every thought and feeling of her heart with nothing more than a breath and a glimpse into her eyes.

  But still, I paused, not understanding what she was doing here, why she hadn’t called me but inexplicably sat in my family’s dining room, looking at me like she was. Was I supposed to sit? Speak? Sweep her out of that chair and into my arms? I didn’t know.

  She didn’t seem to either.

  The crowded room watched us silently.

  When it had been too long, Ben stood, gesturing to the chair across from him as he said, “Marcus, have a seat.”

  I strode to the chair, my gaze locked with Maisie’s, questions and affirmations flying between us, though neither of us spoke. As bidden, I sat.

  My family hovered around us like specters.

  Ben wore a mysterious smile, as did all of them with the exception of Maisie. She looked as nervous and hopeful as I felt.

  He laid a hand on the folder in front of him. “We’ve received an offer from Bower that you should see.”

  I frowned, taking the folder as he pushed it toward me. “A settlement? I thought the lawsuit was over.”

  “It is,” Maisie said, her voice like a bell in the night. “This is another offer altogether. A partnership, if it pleases you.”

  “A partnership,” I mused, flipping open the folder to view the document inside.

  “This is a preliminary offer, just a jumping-off point,” Ben explained as I skimmed frantically, looking for answers. “But I think you’ll get the idea,” he said on a laugh.

  Words jumped off the page at me. Merge. Joining. Shares. Longbourne and Bower. Trademarking and a staggering dollar amount. I looked up from the pages to meet her gaze.

  “What is this?” I asked her.

  “A merger of sorts,” she answered, suddenly shy. “My … my mother turned over her shares to me. Bower is mine.”

  “I heard.” I smiled. We could have been alone in that room.

  “We’re faced with quite a problem. I have inherited a company in shambles and ruin, and to save it, I have to burn it all down. Our brand is in tatters, and our finances are in a desolate state, especially once I pay back what my mother took so she can leave us without me worrying for her welfare. But I have a plan to save it, one that will wipe the slate clean, and the board agrees. And I’d like your help to do it.”

  “How? How could we possibly help you? We can’t invest, can’t afford to buy in.”

  “Oh, but you can.” Hope radiated from her like sunshine. “Bower Bouquets would like to acquire your business and your brand to adopt as our own, and in exchange, you will receive twenty-five-point-five percent of my shares. We’ll acquire branding rights to Longbourne, and you’ll acquire an equal share of the company. And you and I would own it together.”

  My lips parted, my brain lagging, unsure I’d heard what I thought. I glanced at my expectant family, landing on my mother last, who wore the most optimistic look of them all.

  “You knew about this.” I didn’t ask.

  Mom nodded emphatically. “Oh, Marcus. She came here after you rushed off a few days ago, asked for our blessing. How could we say no?”

  Luke laughed. “You should have seen her trying to keep that one from you. If you hadn’t locked yourself in your house to lick your wounds, I don’t know if we could have kept her quiet.”

  Mom swatted at him, and he flinched dramatically.

  Laney beamed. “You said yourself we could be allies. If this isn’t a golden opportunity, I don’t know what is.”

  My siblings and father nodded as if to say, Go on, dummy. Do it!

  “Bower was founded on family,” Maisie started, “but it was a foundation only in name. Longbourne is—”

  “Failing,” I noted. “Broke.”

  “Family,” she corrected. “Do you remember our dream?”

  My heart ached at the remembrance of the dream we’d had, a dream I’d thought we’d lost. “I do.”

  “We could do this together. We could make the dream come true with you and me at the helm. Even if … even if you and I aren’t to be, we can save our family businesses together. The board agrees, especially after the strides you’ve made with Longbourne in the short time that you’ve been in charge. Longbourne is everywhere—magazines, celebrity weddings, newspapers. And in order for Bower to survive, we have to strip it down to the bolts. We have to restructure, gather the troops. We have to start over. And if I’m going to rebuild, I want to rebuild with you. Because despite what I’ve said, what I’ve done, I trust you more than anyone. With the business. With my heart.” Her eyes fell to her hands. “I hope one day I can earn your trust again. But in the meantime, I’d like to ask if you’d be my partner. All I’ve wanted—all I’ve ever wanted—is to be enough. To be equal. To hold a place of my own next to someone I love. Will you help me save Bower? Will you be my equal?”

  Wordlessly, I rose, never breaking our gaze as I walked around the table. My family faded away, the room a shade with Maisie crisp and clear in the center, brows clicking together in curiosity. She turned in her seat as I approached and dropped to one knee.

  Her hand flew to her mouth, and gasps sounded from behind me.

  “Be your equal,” I mused, taking her hand. “How could I be equal when I fall so short? I should have told you then what I knew in my heart, what I’ve always known. That I love you. That I betrayed that love by not forgiving you the moment you spoke. That there is nothing you could do or say that is unforgivable. You don’t have to earn my trust again because you’ve always had it. I was just too shocked, too scared, too hurt to fight for us. I should have. Forgive me. I swear I will always fight for us, if you’ll give me the chance.”

  “Of course, Marcus,” she whispered and smiled and cried all at once. “I’ll always forgive you.”

  “Then I’d like to make a proposal of my own. A proposal of partnership and equality. One of love and forgiveness. A proposal of forever.”

  Releasing her hand, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the box, opening it in display. “Longbourne has always been run by a Bennet woman, and I’d hate to break tradition now. Marry me, Maisie.”

  She stared at the ring, wide eyes full of tears, hands pressed to her lips. When they fell, she said, “I … this is not what I expected.”

  Fear struck me like lightning, but a smile brushed my lips to cover it. “Well, I tried to call.”

  A laugh caught in her throat, dissolving into a hitch of her breath. “I’m so sorry, Marcus.” She reached for my face, hers etched with regret.

  “So am I. I was wrong, Maisie. Forgive me.”

  “I’ll always forgive you. Will you promise the same?”

  “I do promise.” I glanced down at the proffered ring. “I’d hate to put this back in my pocket, it’s been there so long.”

  She laughed. “You’ll make me a Bennet?”

  “There’s not a single thing in the world that would make me happier.”

  “Only forever with you,” she said with a smile that split me open. “Yes, Marcus.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathed in relief, rising swiftly to punctuate the words with a kiss that washed every worry and fear away, replacing them with this. With us.

>   It took a moment to become aware of the clapping and laughing and whooping around us. We seemed to notice it together, breaking the kiss to laugh and smile while I slid the ring on her finger, both of our hands trembling. And then she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me again, deep enough that it had me wishing desperately that we were alone.

  When we finally parted, it was to stand and greet the reception line of my family. It was a flurry of laughter and tears and slaps on the back. Of hugging and oohs and aahs over Maisie’s ring. It was a chorus of happy welcome, of love and approval, so perfectly chaotic that I didn’t see Jett leave or return, but champagne popped in his hand and flowed into glasses, then another bottle to accommodate us all.

  We raised our glasses, and their eyes turned to me.

  But mine were on Maisie, my heart too big for my chest, straining my ribs. “If love were a commodity, we would all be filthy rich. To family and future. To faith and forgiveness.” I pulled Maisie into my side, where she fit with perfect precision. “To the Bennets, every last one.”

  Hear, hear! rang out, but she and I didn’t drink.

  We occupied our lips otherwise instead.

  32

  Can Do

  MAISIE

  Absolute and utter joy.

  It zinged around the room, riding every laugh, clinging to every hug. It sparkled in tears, lingered on fingertips, hung on every word.

  After the tumult of the last few days, I rode that high like a bird on the breeze.

  Marcus and I didn’t separate by more than a foot through it all, and the minute the champagne flutes were empty and the conversation slowed, he swept me away like I’d been dreaming of since the whole ordeal began.

  I truly was swept—he towed me out the door, the two of us rushing toward his house without speaking even though there was so much to say. But I sensed there would be plenty of time for that. Forever in fact.

  Now wasn’t the time for words.

  And moments later, the world was locked away outside his door, and it was only us.

  A breath, and I was in his arms, his lips against mine, my back against the wall, his hips pinning me, holding me still. As if there were anywhere else in the world I’d rather be. Hands roamed, tasting what we’d missed, cataloging what had been absent, promising never to leave again. Never to doubt.

  Only to trust. Only to forgive.

  Only to love.

  Rough and possessive was the unending kiss, wild were his hands. With a shift and a purposeful press of his body, my thighs hooked around his waist, skirt hiked to my hips and a gasp on my lips. He was demand and request, assertion and submission. He was a living declaration of relief and adoration.

  It was a claiming of my lips, of my body. Of my heart and of my soul.

  Marcus broke the kiss to bury his face in my neck, his lips slowing as he tugged the reins of his composure. Breathless, I mewled.

  He chuckled, pressing a final kiss to the bend of my neck before leaning back to look at me. To catalog my features, recording and registering them, smiling at them with the admiration of a collector.

  “I missed you,” he said simply, tenderly.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you sooner.”

  “I should have been more clear regarding my intentions, but I didn’t quite know how to ask you to marry me in a text.”

  With the flip of my heart, I laughed. Until he chased that laughter away with a kiss, swallowing it until it was his.

  It took little more than a hitch for him to lift all my weight, holding me in place with a hand on my ass, my legs still locked around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. I kicked off my shoes with twin thumps on the stairs behind us.

  “You asked me to marry you,” I mused.

  “And you said yes.”

  “I told you I wanted to be a Bennet. Did you really think I’d say no?”

  “Well, I hoped you wouldn’t, but there was always a chance.”

  “No, there wasn’t.”

  He stopped near the top of the stairs to kiss me again, breaking only to trot up the rest in a gallop that had me giggling and bouncing around his waist. And in a few breaths, I found myself in his bed, looking into the eyes I’d love my whole life.

  For a moment, we just watched each other with quiet smiles.

  “Your mother gave you the company,” he said in wonder. “I cannot believe she gave it up.”

  “I can’t even imagine how deeply she’ll regret that when we rebrand as Longbourne.”

  I laughed it off, but Marcus’s brows gathered.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? The business is Bower. It’s always been Bower. That is your legacy.”

  “But that’s the thing. I don’t want Bower for what it is. I want it for what it could be. I don’t want her legacy. I want to make one of my own. For me. For us. For our children.” The word lingered between us, thick with hope and promise.

  “Bower will not survive, not as it is. The board and I came up with a plan, a way not only to survive, but to rebuild. We’ll close the offices and the magazine. Trim down our staff and tighten the business. Our distribution is strong, but the flash my mother so loved has to go. We’ll focus on our storefronts. Take a boutique approach. Use what we already have in the way of marketing and management to shift us in a new direction. And what better direction than a rebrand? What better way to rebrand than to separate ourselves from what we were? I am the face of my company—a fresh, new face with new ideas. If there was any time to rebrand, it’s now. And if there’s one thing I want to invest in, it’s the Bennets.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but kissed me instead, his hand holding my face and his lips slow. And after, he watched me again.

  “Why Longbourne though? Why not rebrand both of us as something entirely new?”

  “Why strip your legacy simply because I’ve forsaken mine? Longbourne is iconic in the boutique world. Think of it, Marcus—all my mother ran were impersonal, big-box flower shops. No one would trust a Bower boutique, especially not after what she’s done and the press that’s come along with it. And no one would know what to make of something entirely new. But if someone walked past a Longbourne shop with one of Tess’s displays in the window, they would be charmed and enchanted, just like everyone is. What you have, what your family has built, is spellbinding. Your story is alluring in its honesty, in its truth. Your family is inspiring, and I … I still can’t quite believe I’ll get to be a part of it.”

  “Believe it.” He took my left hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

  “And now you and I can save both of our legacies. We can save them together. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to do it without you.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. You can do anything, Maisie.”

  “If you’re by my side, I know I can.”

  “I’ll be by your side forever.” A pause. “I should have forgiven you.”

  “And I never should have doubted you. I didn’t blame you for being hurt, not when I betrayed you like I did. I’m just so thankful you took me back. Even if you hadn’t, the only way I’d keep my Bower shares was if you were running it with me.”

  “What would you have done?” he asked quietly.

  “I’d have bought the charity from the board and sold the rest of my shares off. Thrown myself into that. Probably would have adopted a handful of cats while I was at it, really kick off my spinster life.”

  Marcus chuckled. “No way you wouldn’t get snapped up.”

  “It wouldn’t have been fair to them, seeing as how I’ll love you until I die.”

  “From the first time I ever saw you until the last breath I take.”

  “I knew it even then. Even when we were apart, I think I knew we would find a way back to each other.”

  “I wouldn’t have given up,” he said.

  “I think I knew that too. And now, all of my wishes have come true. You love me. Enough to be my partner. Enough to give me your name. Enough to br
ing me into your family.”

  “And your dad too.” He thumbed my bottom lip when my mouth opened in surprise. “My mother has been looking for someone to take the Bennet mantle, to run Longbourne like the women of my family have for generations.”

  “What about Laney?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “She never wanted it, maybe just because Mom wanted it so much for her. Laney never did do what was expected of her.”

  I frowned. “You don’t think Laney will be … I don’t know. Upset?”

  At that, Marcus laughed. “Please, trust me when I say you’re doing her a favor.”

  “I do. Trust you. Tell me the sky is purple. Convince me two and two is five.”

  He made a face that told me exactly how disturbed he was at the math.

  “Tell me you love me,” I said.

  With a slow smile, he leaned in and whispered, “Now that I can do.”

  Epilogue

  Maisie

  Three months later

  Marcus stood in front of my desk in our office, making hang up the phone gestures, one dark brow arched and his lips tilted in a smile.

  One sec, I mouthed, holding up a finger.

  “Uh-huh,” I said into the phone, closing my laptop and packing it up. “We’ll see you tomorrow then. Thanks, John.”

  I ended the call and stuffed my phone in my bag.

  “We were supposed to leave a half hour ago,” he scolded as I stood.

  “I know—I had to confirm that meeting with the distributors. I’m sorry.”

  His hand slipped into the curve of my waist, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. “You never have to apologize to me. My mother, on the other hand …”

  On a laugh, I said, “Think I can woo her into forgiveness by telling her how happy said distributors are?”

  “Probably not, but you can try.”

  Smiling, we headed out of our office.

  Shelby stood and smoothed her skirt. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

  “No, thank you, Shelby,” Marcus answered. “Do us a favor and try not to work this weekend, would you?”